


A Study in Femme

by ContraryIzybel



Category: The Hobbit (2012), The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/F, F/M, Gen, Genderbending, Mild Sexual Content, One Shot Collection, fem!Bilbo, fem!Company, fem!Thorin, various pairings - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-03-30
Updated: 2013-04-11
Packaged: 2017-12-06 23:05:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 16,516
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/741206
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ContraryIzybel/pseuds/ContraryIzybel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A series of one shots (at least for now) featuring various characters up and switching gender. Various pairings and non-consistence within.  Will add tags as they are needed.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. A Company of Handsome Women (Gen, fem!Company)

**Author's Note:**

> This series will include a higher proportion of fem!dwarrows to fem!bilbo, and I can promise right away that any pairings featuring fem!Bilbo will be between her and another lady. There will be the occasional M/F pairing as well, which should (if I remember to) be noted in each chapter that it applies. Right now it looks like it's mostly F/F. Tags will update as pieces are added.
> 
> Chapters include:  
> A Company of Handsome Women (Gen, fem!company)  
> Queens Under the Mountain (fem!Thorin/fem!Bilbo)  
> Honeymoon Suite (fem!Dwalin/Ori)  
> The Language of Flowers (fem!Bofur/fem!Bilbo)  
> Dreams of Happily Ever After (fem!Kili/fem!Bilbo)  
> A (Virtual) World All Our Own (fem!Thorin/fem!Bilbo)  
> Can't Take the Sky From Me (fem!Thorin/fem!Bilbo)  
> Of Dragons and Princesses (fem!Kili)

Chapter One  
A Company of Handsome Women

Featuring Fem!Company and Bilbo

-

The problem with the company, and if he ever said this out loud it would probably be the end of Bilbo Baggins, was that they were incredibly handsome. The kind of handsome that made passing Shire lasses stop in their midday walks to stare at the group with pink decorating their cheeks. The kind of handsome that even in villages of men there would be one or two who were more pleased by the sight of thirteen handsome dwarves than to be put off by how low one would have to swoop to gather a kiss. 

Which made it all the more tragic when Bilbo discovered he, and Gandalf, were the only males in the company. 

And hadn’t that been a startling revelation? Perhaps he would have reacted better if they had told him casually, maybe between conversations about mining and whittling. Or during one of those peaceful spells when there wasn’t much at all to talk about. Even during the story of when Dwalin tried invading Dori’s tea shop to apprehend Nori only to be stopped by the youngest of the three brothers, well sisters, who at the time was still wearing nappies. That would have been a splendid time! A simple, “and the big lout actually stops to gather Ori up and started rocking the babe while telling me I’m a horrible example, and did you realize we’re all women, and afterwards Dwalin even put Ori to bed while singing a lullaby.” 

Yes, that would have been a good and proper way to discover it. Better than coming across a clear stream and suddenly finding himself surrounded by naked dwarf women. And, as a good gentlehobbit often does when surrounded by nude women who lacked any sense of decency, he had promptly fainted. 

Not his proudest moment. 

“You didn’t tell me they were women!” Bilbo huffed at Gandalf once he was conscious and far enough away from the rest of the company to keep from making a fool of himself. Well, more than he ever did. 

“My dear boy, I thought you knew. Dwarf women look remarkably like dwarf men, but not enough you couldn’t tell.” 

Curse that wizard and curse his chuckle. He wasn’t the one who was being unobservant here. No, no, not good old Bilbo. Just because something was obvious to a wizard did not mean it was as quickly noticed by the rest of the world. 

Obviously. 

“They call Thorin a king. King Under the Mountain.” 

Gandalf just sighed, as though Bilbo was an uninformed student who’d failed to do his readings. “A king in dwarf society is the one who rules, regardless of gender.” 

“I could have sworn I heard the word ‘he’ thrown around when Thorin first arrived at Bag End.” Bilbo added. 

But Gandalf had walked away at that point, far more interested in the road ahead than the confusion of one little Hobbit. Which was a shame because he was so very confused. 

And really, not much changed after his sudden discovery. The dwarves continued to treat him in a manner ranging from mild amusement to mild disgust and he maintained the same feelings for them, especially when forced to watch them eat. Perhaps he felt more inclined to press upon them better manners, but no amount of etiquette would improve a dwarf’s eating habits, gender regardless. 

But no, not much changed. Bofur was still cheery and still told horrible gruesome stories, the kind that no lady hobbit would tell outside of perhaps a daughter of a Took. Bifur was still impossible to understand, while Bombur still cooked fantastic meals and devoured most of them. Dori, out of all of them, was the closest to anything feminine, but that constantly henning over her sisters was no change in behavior. Nori’s ridiculous jokes and eyebrow wiggles took on a slightly more lewd dimension and Ori’s shy kindness became much sweeter. Oin and Gloin, well even Bilbo had trouble believing a woman could grow such a massive beard, and he couldn’t for a second believe a woman would shave and tattoo her head like Dwalin had but that wasn’t a reflection on their behavior, just their sense of fashion. And Balin was still like the grandfather he’d lost after the death of the Old Took, even if she was a woman. As for Fili and Kili, well they were so very much like the cousins he’d grown up with in the Shire it was hard to see any ounce of femininity under their boisterous chuckles and childish games. Perhaps there were games girls played that he hadn’t been privy to. Equally wild, but far more secretive. It was the only explanation that didn’t make his head spin. 

Of course when he mentioned as much to Gandalf the old wizard just chuckled into his pipe and remarked that fauntlings are generally much the same regardless of gender, at least by his experience. 

Bilbo hadn’t liked the way he said it, but it certainly made his interactions with the royal sisters less odd. 

But truly, out of any of them it was Thorin Oakenshield who he had the biggest problem with. It wasn’t the beard she wore on her chin, nor the way she dressed like any male would. It was the way she held herself. Mighty, sometimes haughty, and as though a great weight was constantly upon her. It was something he’d never seen in a woman. But then, it was also something he’d rarely seen among a man. 

Unfortunately, as Bilbo was prone to speaking without forethought at only the most inconvenient times, he said as much. 

“You think my baring marks my gender?” Thorin said, and Bilbo was relieved to see there was more humor in her eyes than irritation. 

Bilbo gasped for words, hands coming up as though to defend himself from the amused smirk. “Oh, well you’re quite handsome, the whole lot of you actually, and generally handsome is reserved for males.” 

He hadn’t thought that sentence through. 

“That isn’t to say there’s anything wrong with handsome women. Plenty of them around. Oh yes, one of my aunts certainly wasn’t beautiful but she had a trail of broken hearts where ever she went and why aren’t you shutting me up yet?” 

“Because I’m amused. You think my company is handsome?” 

Bilbo had to imagine he was turning a shade closer to red with each word but he couldn’t find the self control to just shut up. “It’s not a matter of what I think, it’s a matter of what I have observed.” 

Thorin lifted an eyebrow in a way that was positively stunning. He spared a moment to wonder if he would have used such a word before his little discovery and decided he didn’t have time to waste on such thoughts when defending himself. 

“I mean the hobbit lasses were staring very intently at you lot when we were making our way to Bree.” 

Thorin nodded. “We noticed. Some of us more than others.” 

Across the way there was a sudden ruffling and laughter and from the corner of his eye Bilbo caught sight of Dori reprimanding Nori for something and for once he wasn’t curious about whatever shenanigans the dwarf lass got into when she’d disappeared from the group. He imagined even guessing would dye his face red for the next few years. 

“The point is, the lasses find you all quite handsome.” 

“A strange point, but not one I will argue.” She leaned a little closer, positively grinning at him. “All lasses enjoy a hearty beard.” 

And there was that blush again. “And they’re quite lovely, I’m sure.” 

“I always thought it would be the beard that would confuse you, not our rugged good looks.” 

“Oh well, there aren’t many with beards in the Shire so I imagine it’s shocking on anyone, let alone a woman.” 

Thorin nodded solemnly and it took a moment to realize she was teasing. “You may think we look the same as our males, but I feel the same around hobbits. Only, perhaps we see you all as children.” 

“I beg your pardon!” 

“It is given.” 

More teasing. Such a night it was shaping into. “How could you possibly mistake me for a child?”

The company, which up until then had been decent enough to pretend they weren’t outright eavesdropping on the conversation, all roared at the same time. Between the shouting and laughing, and frustrated grunting that could only be from Bifur, he managed to make out that the biggest confusion about his age came from his bare cheeks. The same reason he’d assume they were all male was the reason they assumed he was a child. 

“How odd.” Bilbo finally muttered to himself once the conversation turned to Elves and their scandalous lack of hair and dizzying height. It was a relief to no longer be the center of attention, but he did feel a tad bit of sympathy for the Elves that were being teased, even if they didn’t know it. 

“Do not fret, Master Baggins. Elves can fend for themselves when being teased by dwarves. Besides, they think all of you to be children.” 

“Very comforting Gandalf.” 

The wizard just chuckled and Bilbo allowed the sound to wash over him, suddenly much less embarrassed by his assumptions.


	2. Queens Under the Mountain (fem!Thorin/fem!Bilbo)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Originally meant to be something else entirely, but it morphed into some adorable Queen Thorin and might-as-well-be Queen Bilbo. In a garden. Cause I'm that original. There may be more from this universe later. Oh, and obviously this is some everybody lives fix it nonsense.

Chapter Two  
Queens Under the Mountain

Featuring fem!Thorin/fem!Bilbo

-

Dwarves and hobbits were very different creatures. Thorin had learned this long before she’d ever stumbled her way through the green fields of the Shire in a hopeless quest to find the one hobbit hole with the one particular rune that no matter what Gandalf had said was not easy to find, thank you very much. Most of what she knew, before all that was turned on its ear, had come from the ever reliable source of her youngest niece who had made a single hobbit friend at a young age and was therefore the resident expert. 

“They live in holes, probably full of worms.” Kili explained while stabbing at her dinner with unnecessary force. “Clove says that hobbits don’t ever wear shoes so they must have dirty feet running around in all that dirt. And she’s got hair on her feet! Whole family does, but, Aunt Thorin listen to this, no listen, her parents don’t have no beards! Not even her da! Hobbits are weird.” 

Dis, who’d been listening with open amusement, spoke up before his daughter could continue her tale of strange hobbits and their strange habits. “Besides the lack of beards, are they all that different from us?” 

Kili wrinkled her nose at the question. “Well, we both live underground, when we can. So that’s something. And we’re about the same size. Clove’s a little taller than me but she says that she’s older which is ridiculous cause she’s only twelve. I don’t understand hobbits at all.” 

Fili, who’d been far more interested in dinner than in Kili’s stories, perked up. “When are we going back to the mountains? Dwalin says it’s getting too close to winter for us to keep playing among men.” 

“I wasn’t done talking, Fili!” 

“You interrupted me, Kili!” 

And until her arrival at Bag End so many years later that had been the extent of Thorin’s knowledge about hobbits. She had been pleased to learn that a hobbit hole was not a dirty, wet place full of worms, something she feared Kili may have commented on. And she was more pleased when she saw the hobbit lass with perfectly clean feet and the expression of someone who had been very, very put out. 

It would have been a good moment to establish relations with the hobbit race, and their burglar as well.

Of course Thorin had to ruin that moment by opening her mouth. 

But almost two years later she had perhaps started making amends for her earlier blunders. And if part of those amends came from letting Bilbo bully her during her six month recovery from the wounds she received in battle, which may have been mostly her own fault, well at least scolding Thorin was one of Bilbo’s preferred hobbies. 

During her time under Bilbo’s less than tender care Thorin ended up learning far more about hobbits than she ever thought she’d need to know. From the history of the Shire, to naming traditions, to the importance of the party tree and why Erebor needed one, Thorin learned it all. And while sitting in her bed, forcing down yet another bowl of gruel deemed healthy by Oin, Thorin learned about the importance of gardening. 

“Gardening,” Bilbo began, while forcing another spoonful into Thorin’s mouth, “is very important to hobbits. We are made of gentler things than rock and gems. A hobbit is truly happy when surrounded by warm sunlight, green grass, and flowers. Maybe some vegetables. But we also enjoy the coolness that comes from living underground. So perhaps we are practically plants in our own right.” 

“You would not be happy among stone, would you?” Thorin asked when the question weighed to heavily on her mind. 

But Bilbo just rolled her eyes and kissed Thorin’s forehead, less like a lover and more like a put upon mother. “Don’t be silly. I’ll be happy enough when you stubborn dwarves start healing. No time to worry about gardening now.” 

And she hadn’t worried about things like gardens, hadn’t really thought about them, until Thorin came up with her surprise. Because somewhere between rebuilding a kingdom, and pretending to get along with childish elvenkings, and keeping the young princesses from getting into too much trouble, Thorin managed to find a garden. 

It was carved into the side of the mountain, not far from the royal suites but far enough removed that it hadn’t been a high priority when rebuilding began. From the jutting rise of the mountain it cut out, high fences guarding from sharp winds and high falls. She had spent a few months just making sure it wouldn’t collapse completely off the face of the mountain, and the next few months secretly brining in soil and saplings and all manner of things she could remember Bilbo babbling about. Two old oaks had managed to live on, how she would never know, and in their branches she made homes for birds, hoping it would encourage a few to stay. 

And finally, almost a year after the reclaiming of Erebor, Thorin was ready to show Bilbo her surprise. 

She’d expected the huffing that came with covering her burglar’s eyes. And she’d expected the grumbling that came with leading her blindly through the halls. But she hadn’t expected Bilbo’s high gasp, or for her to practically fall to her knees. 

“You are the most ridiculous dwarf in all of Middle-Earth.” She finally said after a minute of standing with her toes buried in the soft dirt. “I don’t need a garden.” 

Even as she said the words she seemed to melt into the dirt, hands possibly shaking but it was hard to tell when she was pushing them against the soil. The wind curled through her hair, ruffling it with such force that a few of the braids Kili had put there threatened to smack the hobbit in the face. And when she moved forward to take her lover’s hand in her own Thorin could smell the clean and soft scent of dirt, something hadn’t realized she’d missed since their journey began. 

“You truly do. This is where you belong, among the lovely things, and the useful things.”

With absolutely no grace she pulled Bilbo onto her lap, settling to point out the various saplings and explaining her less than grand plans for flowers and vegetables, nothing specific, just whichever ones had caught her attention when they were listed for her. 

“Kili once had a hobbit friend.” Thorin said when the sun began to set, casting them into the shadows. She had pulled her furs closer to Bilbo, fighting off both the chill and the need to leave. “When pressed she said dwarves and hobbits were similar as we both live underground, which had to count for something. I think she was right.” 

“You silly old romantic. Of course it counts for something.” And for her troubles Thorin received a kiss on the nose. 

In the years that followed it wasn’t often that the Queen’s lover could be seen without some manner of flower, either braided into her hair or chained into jewelry. Some days it would just be a small daisy, right behind her pointed ear, while other times, usually when dignitaries from Mirkwood were about, it would be a veritable bouquet. From one of the old oak branches Thorin made wooden beads for Bilbo’s hair, inlaid with gems and carved with delicate curls. And some times, often near the anniversary of the reclaiming of Erebor, Queen Thorin would be seen with wooden beads holding back her braids and primrose in her dark locks. 

And when the matters of the kingdom had been finished for the day the Queens of Erebor would settle in the dirt of their private garden, digging and planting and laughing and mostly loving.


	3. Honeymoon Suite (fem!Dwalin/Ori)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love some Dwalin/Ori, and I like the idea of Dwalin being a hardass lady solider so I had to mix the two. There may be more Lady Dwalin in the future, though she may be with Lady Ori next you see her.

Chapter Three  
Honeymoon Suite

Featuring fem!Dwalin/Ori

-

There were fourteen of them, and only three rooms to split between the lot, but she wasn’t at all surprised to see the one who was most obviously leading them offer the furthest room to only two. She knew the looks, had seen the brushing of hands when they’d first entered. It hadn’t been that long ago that she’d shared those fleeting touches with her own intended. 

“You lot going to be alright with just the three rooms?” She asked in a rush of bravery. They didn’t often get dwarves so close to the mountain and she wanted to make sure they were all settled. And also maybe a little talking wouldn’t hurt. Her own mum had been friends with a dwarf long ago and had told the most clever stories about the race long lost to their territory. 

The smallest of the group, well second smallest but the actual smallest member was obviously no dwarf, offered her a kind smile and nodded. “Oh, we’ve had less space.” 

“Won’t be mattering much to you. You pair just married then?” She winked at the tallest dwarf who had started glaring the moment their conversation began. Fierce little one. She liked that quality in guests and made sure to send another wink in that direction. 

“Oh! Well, yes, actually. It’s nothing official, but on the road, and you never know-“ 

She cut the small guest off with a laugh. “No need to explain. My husband and I didn’t stop at hand holding when we were first together. I’ll make sure to keep your admirers at bay. Get you some privacy, which every fresh married couple deserves.” 

“Oh, tha-thank you.” And with that the taller dwarf deemed their conversation over, quickly herding the smaller of the pair up the stairs to their room. 

“Ah, young love.” She sighed while her husband snorted behind her. “I know they’re older than both of us combined but doesn’t it just make you think of back when we first went courting?” 

He nodded slowly. “Oh aye. Though my wife didn’t have quite the beard.” 

“It’s a lovely little beard.” 

“Think I’d get confused with that much hair. Though her braids were cute. Perhaps she’ll teach us a few for the little ones. I noticed your daughters trying to copy their braids when I put them to bed.” 

She nodded before stopping short. “What was that about braids?” 

“The ones the wife wore in her beard. Very cute, for a beard. Well, a woman’s beard.” 

And for a good minute afterwards she just laughed at her husband, though for the rest of the evening he couldn’t get her to explain what she found so funny. 

-

“They think you to be my wife.” 

“I always said they would. Men are not skilled at distinguishing the gender of other races.” 

Dwalin snorted. Armor littered the floor and no amount of nagging would find it cleaned until morning. But it wasn’t cleanliness that attracted Ori to Dwalin. In a move that would have been rash less than twenty four hours earlier Ori stood on his tip toes, kissing his new wife on her nose. It earned a snort but certainly a fond enough snort. 

“Just kissing my nose? Has the passion left us so soon?” 

“After only a few hours? I’d certainly hope not.” He kissed her again, this time on the lips. Their beards would be hopelessly tangled if they continued much longer but Ori found he couldn’t be bothered with it. Not when Dwalin’s massive hands were holding his cheeks, her breath hot against his lips when they pulled away. 

It didn’t take much for Dwalin to free her husband of his clothes, and as soon as she had she went about kissing all the places where she planned to have him marked. “Your brothers can’t complain about ye getting tattoos now that you’re married.” 

“They’ll complain about anything they set their minds to. But I’ve told you, not until we’re back in Erebor.” 

Dwalin rolled her eyes, remembering the conversation well enough. The original agreement was he would let her mark him after he saw his first great battle. But apparently being chased by hundreds of goblins hardly counted as a great battle. The next agreement, made in Beorn’s cozy home, had been after their marriage. But even now he was trying to weasel out of it. 

“If you don’t want it, just tell me.” She said with a rumble that was mostly accidental. “I won’t be offended.” 

But Ori just rolled his eyes, kissing her once more. “I do. Just, not now. Soon.” 

“Would just be a lot happier if I could mark your skin.” 

“And you wonder why men think we’re a possessive lot.” Ori said, pushing at his wife’s last layer, finally revealing her own skin to his eyes. He hadn’t gotten a proper look since before Mirkwood and it was comforting to see the same scars and tattoos. Nothing new was a good thing. “Would you let me mark you? Right here?” 

He ran his fingers over her collar, down to just above her right breast. The space was bare, waiting for something. 

He liked to imagine waiting for him. 

And he had made her wait so long, having been rude enough to be born so recently in comparison to her many years. But she didn’t seem bothered by any of that, nor of the strange looks they would surely receive if the men of the village discovered which was husband and which was wife.

Dwalin couldn’t be bothered to care about the opinions of men. 

“I’ll find some ink and you can scribble all over me before we get to the mountain. But right now it’s our wedding night and I would like to have my wicked way with you.” 

“Promises, promises.” Ori teased, kissing her firmly and receiving a twisted beard as a rewards. 

And when the company made their march on the Lonely Mountain Dwalin had one more mark on her skin, less permanent that the others, but just as important. With the ink he’d been saving to record their adventure Ori had written his name and his declaration of love, in such poetry he was almost ashamed it wouldn’t last forever. 

On Ori’s chest Dwalin had simply written “Husband of Dwalin.” 

She figured that was good enough.


	4. The Language of Flowers (fem!Bofur/fem!Bilbo)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Are flowers a kink? Is that a thing? Because I seem to have a lot of flowers in my work. This certainly won't be the last we see of Bofur/Bilbo, and it most certainly won't be the last of the flowers. I just can't help myself.

Chapter Four  
The Language of Flowers

Featuring fem!Bofur/fem!Bilbo (with background appearances by fem!company)

-

Someone was leaving her flowers. 

Or perhaps the flowers were simply following her around, hiding in her boots, her bedroll, her hat. Sometimes it would just be a few little petals. A gathering of lavender tied off with a bit of string sitting just beside the carving she’d put aside for a moment. A lilac tied to her spoon when she grabbed it from her pack for dinner. Some honeysuckle right next to her nose when she woke up.

And every day Bofur would gather up the gifts and add them to her expanding bouquet. She had taken to tying it on her belt, though at the rate it was expanding she’d be better off just sewing the flowers onto her hat. 

Though even she would admit that would be silly. 

Now, Bofur was a great many things. A tad too direct would be top of the list of her faults, though she rarely thought of it as such. Being direct was a good thing. Obviously. But whomever was leaving her such gifts was not at all direct. 

And it was driving her slightly mad. 

Oh, it amused the rest of the company to no end. At least those who bothered to notice such things. Bombur was always aware of her sister’s comings and goings and probably knew who the culprit was, but refrained from helping. And after the first attempt at eating the gifts, only to be rightly chastised, Bifur had stopped being interested in any of what she deemed “Bofur’s greens.” Bofur liked to think little Ori knew what was going on, at least from the little chuckles she would hear from that end of camp when adding the new additions to her bouquet. The royal sisters probably knew nothing, for they hadn’t started to make jokes. 

A small mercy. 

But yes, Bofur was a great many things. A tad too direct, far louder than a lady should be, and the owner of a fantastic sense of humor. But she was also aware. One didn’t mine in the dangerous belly of a mountain without developing a sense of awareness. Unfortunately, as was the curse of her family, she didn’t put such talents to use unless she really, really wanted to. Didn’t see the point in wasting time with just noticing things, not with fourteen other wide eyes to keep track of everything. But this was hers and hers alone to keep track of. 

And she did.

She took to noticing the reaction of each company member when she added a new flower to her expanding bouquet. She took to noticing where the flowers would be coming from. If she passed a lovely bunch of daffodils around midday she could expect to see them again closer to dinner. Some of the ones that appeared in the morning were mysteries. Whoever gathered them must have taken time at night when the others slept. So she began to notice who looked tired in the morning, though that did little good when everyone was exhausted at the end, and beginning, of every day. 

It took her about a week to know her answer. She could have guessed by the second day, but this wasn’t something she wanted to guess on. 

It wasn’t often that she tried her hand at sneaking around. Her last attempt had been years before when she’d tried hiding a pony in her bathroom, caring for it like a house pet. She managed about two weeks before Bombur even noticed which was especially impressive when she took the pony for walks at least twice a day. She could certainly be sneaky, but like many other talents it was one she rarely called on.

One this day she chose to slip away from the rest of the company and the river they’d declared as a good resting spot. Normally she’d enjoy sitting around with her kin and friends but she wasn’t the only one sneaking and she was after the more experienced member of their company when it came to that. 

It only took her a few minutes to find Bilbo. She hadn’t wandered that far off, settled on the stump of a tree that looked as though it had been knocked over by a harsh storm wind. In her hands she had gathering of flowers, snowdrops, lilies, and white flower Bofur hadn’t seen before, and she seemed to be muttering to herself over the lot. 

“You seem upset.” 

Bilbo startled so suddenly at the sound that the flowers fell from her hand, though Bofur was close enough she managed to catch them. She returned the snowdrops and lilies, but held onto the mystery flower. 

“Didn’t mean to scare you.” She said, lifting the white flower to her nose to sniff it. “Pretty little thing. You find it on the roads?” 

Bilbo nodded. “There was a bush of them further up the river. It’s hard to find these near the Shire, so I was pleased to see some growing wild.” 

“A rare flower?” She asked.

“A popular one. It’s a primrose. Very popular as a gift.” She swallowed thickly, so much so Bofur could hear it from where she stood. “It’s popular because it means eternal love, in the flower language.” 

Bofur perked up, dropping beside Bilbo on the stump, which wasn’t large enough for them to sit with much space. “Flowers have a language?” 

Bilbo paled a little and nodded, her curls falling into her face. On a whim Bofur pushed the curls aside, tucking them behind Bilbo’s pointed ear. 

“We don’t have anything like that in the mountains. Can you tell me,” she pulled her bouquet from her belt, holding it out to the hobbit, “can you tell me what they mean?” 

“Purple lilac. It’s the first emotion of love. That peony? It’s sometimes shame, sometimes bashfulness. Bellflowers are gratefulness, and the Canterbury Bells which are from the same family mean the same. That’s broom, it’s from a shrub. It’s for courage. Violets are daydreaming and faithfulness. Lavender, devotion. Gardenia is a secret love.” She tampered off and the finger she’d been using to point out each flower stopped on the petals of the primrose. “In the Shire, that would be a very bold bouquet you hold.” 

Bofur nodded, lifting it to her nose to inhale the combined scent of so many flowers. “I enjoy bold. And I enjoy the flowers. But it’d be nice if you’d just hand them to me, instead of hiding them in my boots.” 

The blush was instant, so fast it was as though someone had painted her cheeks red. It even extended to the tips of her ears. As Bilbo tensed Bofur reached out, catching her in a tight hug. She wasn’t sure why she had done that, but she imagined it was to keep Bilbo from running away in embarrassment. One of her gloved hands found its way into the curly mess Bilbo called her hair, not pulling but just resting there. 

“I’m glad it was you.” 

“I’m glad you’re glad.” Bilbo whispered, voice almost smothered by Bofur’s clothes. 

“May I, may I please braid your hair?” she stumbled over the words and ended up whispering them into Bilbo’s hair. 

Bilbo risked a glance from where she’d buried her face into Bofur’s chest. “Is that a dwarf thing?” 

“Sometimes.” Bofur admitted. “But ever since I figured out it was you I’ve been wanting to braid some of my flowers into your hair.” 

The confession was well worth warm smile. And though they weren’t the prettiest braids, for Bofur had very little practice adding trinkets to hair, Bilbo wore them with pride. She didn’t remove them when they returned to camp, nor did she do much besides blush when the whispering began. They simply sat beside the fire, holding hands and discussing anything and everything that came to their minds, ignoring the knowing chuckles from the older dwarves, or the pestering from the younger dwarves. And each day after she would present Bofur with new flowers, which would eventually find themselves braided into Bilbo’s curls, or sometimes sewn onto Bofur’s hat. 

And later, when Bofur found a bush of primroses, she made sure to gather as just a few over what would be excessive, intent on braiding each one into Bilbo’s hair until she wore a crown. Her kin may have teased when she came back, fingers stained green from the foraging, and her friends may have laughed when she modestly presented them to the burglar, but no one made a sound when Bilbo pressed a kiss against her lips and no one understood why she joked about the safety of the primroses between them and Erebor. 

No one else needed to know what Bofur said with those flowers. Because even if she could never teach Bilbo the language she’d learned at her mother’s knee, they could still share the language of the flowers.


	5. Dreams of Happily Ever After (fem!Kili/fem!Bilbo)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Someday I will write a long piece exploring the idea of fem!Kili, and if there's romance it will be a long, detailed, incredible romance. But this is not that day. Also I maintain the Kili of this universe gets that happily ever after she was dreaming about, and that may be the next time we see fem!Kili as the main focus.

Chapter Five  
Dreams of Happily Ever After

Featuring Fem!Kili/Fem!Bilbo

-

She was the most beautiful, clever, interesting person Kili had ever met, and someday they were going to get married and adopt a whole gaggle of children and they would always be happy and healthy and in love, no matter what anyone said, her rat snake of a brother included. Because she knew, deep in her heart, that some day she would get her happily ever after. 

Instead she got sand in her hair when she tried to kiss the object of her affection and had to spend the night crying as quietly as she could so Fili wouldn’t hear it. 

True love was hard, especially for a child. 

But she knew, oh she knew, that someday she would get her happily ever after.

-

She was the most wonderful, thoughtful, kind person Kili had ever met, and someday they were going to elope, running away from their families who couldn’t understand the depth of their love. They would spend their days curled up a roaring fire, in a little cottage that Kili had built. One in the trees, because her love deserved only the best, and because she thought it would be neat. And sometimes in that dream of the future she would stroke Kili’s forehead, whispering about how happy she was, and when she thought of it Kili knew, deep in her heart, that some day she would get her happily ever after.

Instead she got a strange look and a stuttered explanation about the miller’s son and how it really wasn’t Kili, but it was. That night she didn’t care if her brother saw her tears, and even let him pet her hair and tell her that everything would be okay. 

And she believed him. 

Because she knew, oh she knew, that someday she would get her happily ever after. 

-

She was the most stunning, mysterious, talented person Kili had ever met, and though their love would be forbidden Kili knew they could find a way. She knew their hands would find one another under the table at boring social functions. She knew they would slip away while their parents spoke of trade negotiations, and ancestry and a million other things and they would dance under the stars and share secrets. And even if she had to lean down to kiss Kili, and even if she had to stand on her tiptoes to look her love in the eye, she would. Because Kili knew, deep in her heart, she would finally get her happily ever after. 

Instead the elven maiden sighed, so low and soft that it was as though the wind was sighing through the tree branches. She sighed, and kissed Kili on the forehead, and left. 

And Kili sighed as well. 

Because for the first time she wondered if she was wrong. 

That night she watched the stars and recalled the stories of true love she’d heard at her mother’s knee. She thought of the acts of valor performed in the name of love, and of the heartbreak that inevitably came when the lovers were separated by station or circumstance. She hummed the ballads that had been sung long ago, and wondered how her song would go. Would they sing of love, or of a daughter with no place in court and no skills past annoying her relatives? 

‘Perhaps,’ Kili thought to herself as she sat under the endless night sky, ‘perhaps I will not get my happily ever after.’

-

She was the most fussy, uptight, ridiculous little creature Kili had ever met and she rather enjoyed it. 

Bilbo Baggins, not Boggins as she was quick to remind the dwarvish princess, was not a great beauty. She was clever, certainly, and quick enough to go against three mountain trolls and laugh about it the next day. But she wasn’t clever enough to pack a proper bag, the kind one needed when adventuring, even if she’d only had a few minutes to gather such a bag. And she had few talents outside of weaving a story, though she did that most nights when even Balin couldn’t think of a tale for the camp. 

During the day she would tell the prince and princess stories, hobbit stories about the old Took and all his children, and how the Shire came to be, and how important manners were. And they would listen before sharing their own stories of dwarvish iron, determination, and strength. 

And, being unfailingly polite, Bilbo would nod before starting in on the tale of Bandobras “Bullroar” Took, who was big enough to ride a real horse and may or may not have invented the game of golf.

Kili liked to imagine that if she had ever met such a hobbit they would have been good friends. 

Some nights, when she and Fili were on watch, she would turn her eyes to the lump that seemed to always be shivering under a too thin blanket. She would find herself thinking strange things. Not the things she use to think of as a child, not of happily ever afters, but of happy enough. Or bickering with the fussy thing because she trailed mud into their little hobbit hole. Of playful teasing that would earn a solid smack to the back of her head. But also of things like breakfast, and second breakfast, and tea, and supper, and a late night snack while joking that maybe she was just a hobbit in a dwarf’s body. Things like walking down the curving paths of Hobbiton, hand in hand and not caring about what any gentlehobbit may say. 

And when she finally gave in, mostly at the prompting of her brother, and pushed her bed roll next to Bilbo’s, she tried to play it off as a kindness. Tried to make it something simple like preserving heat or whatever rot she’d manage to mumble out under Bilbo’s critical expression. 

But Bilbo was clever enough to know what wasn’t said, and kind enough to not make too many jokes, and sweet enough to curl closer to Kili. And in the morning when she kissed Kili’s cheek, Kili decided she didn’t need a fantasy happily ever after. She just needed a happy enough.


	6. A (Virtual) World All Our Own (fem!Thorin/fem!Bilbo)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was going to be a chapter story but I enjoyed it more as something short and sweet. Also, this is one of the only times the characters will be given different names. I've included a list but I also tried to keep them close to the original names, and only a few of them play serious roles. This chapter includes mentions of Bofur/fem!Ori and Dis/Dwalin, though they're very much in the background. Also, the Cafe mentioned is my actual favorite restaurant and their mac and cheese is the world's most delicious food. I felt they needed to be immortalized in fic. 
> 
> Cast:  
> Wills – Bilbo Baggins  
> Thorn – Thorin Oakenshield  
> Philip – Fili  
> Killian – Kili  
> Derek – Dwalin  
> Bernard – Balin  
> Beau – Bofur  
> Bradley – Bombur  
> Bridgette – Bifur  
> Olivia – Ori  
> Nathan – Nori  
> Dianna – Dori  
> Gerald – Gloin  
> Owen – Oin  
> Gandalf – Gandalf

Chapter Six  
A (Virtual) World All Our Own

featuring fem!Thorin/fem!Bilbo (and company)

-

The battle had been raging for hours, swords clashing and screams of victory and anguish echoing through the field, which once a fertile green now was only bloodied and trampled. In the center of the battle stood Thorin Oakenshield, who fought with the fury of a mighty king, though his kingdom was long since lost. He moved with the single minded determination that marked him as a valiant leader, a warrior his company would follow to the edge of the world if he were only to ask. The beastly creature who commanded the army of goblins let out a howl as Thorin sliced him down. It was this cry of defeat that drove back the goblin army, back to the hole from which they had crawled. 

“Can I get a goddamn heal or what?” 

“Dude, if your mom hears you talking like that you’re gonna be grounded for a year.” 

So much for the glorious victory. 

Sparing a moment to push up her glasses and rub away the twitch that was developing under her eye, Wills allowed the chatter to wash over her. Somewhere in Chicago their healer had probably fallen asleep at his keyboard, leaving her to clean up the mess. Oin, bless his heard, didn’t have the stamina that the younger players brought to the game. But he enjoyed it as a chance to spend time with his brother and nephew and no one could deny the humor in having a deaf man as their healer. Mostly because their archer never learned to type his requests for a heal. 

“If you’re not nicer to Oin he’ll leave you to the goblins.” She chided the younger player, though she still went about fixing him up, if only to keep him from complaining. 

“Maybe if we weren’t getting slammed by these raids it wouldn’t be an issue.” 

The archer’s brother, both in game and out of it, had been busy looting and rewarded her hobbit with plenty of goodies to make it worth her while. She’d always preferred Fili for his thoughtfulness, but she’d never say as much. Besides the fact that it would be incredibly rude, she didn’t fancy being shot ‘on accident.’ Again. 

While the brothers got into another petty shuffle over something or rather, a shuffle which experience told her would soon boil over into the real world, Wills set about making sure everyone else was settled. Bombur and Bifur had already signed off for the night, and Dori had disappeared in the middle of the battle, which could have been caused by anything from a real life emergency, probably Nori bringing mischief into the house as he’d been missing from that night’s raid, or just responding to the need for tea. Dori would check in at some point, probably to chide Ori if she was still online. Balin must have been more exhausted than he’d originally let on because she could faintly make out the sound of snoring over her headphones. Gloin had disappeared almost immediately after the battle ended, probably to put his son back in bed. The boy had a bad habit of sneaking out of bed to watch his dad’s games. 

Really out of the company only a few members were still online. Luckily one of those members was Ori, who’d been hovering behind Wills’ avatar while she scurried around. 

“Hey, are we still having lunch tomorrow? Beau said he’d be able to meet up with us.” 

“Only if it’s not at the dining hall. I’m still nauseous from the last time we ate there.” 

“Amen.” One of the dwarf warriors, who’d been chasing off the last stragglers had returned with a new mattock and the same silly grin that his player wore in the real world. “If you let me join you I’d be happy to pay for some café food.” 

Wills sighed, knowing that just a few blocks over he was giving his computer screen the puppy dog eyes. “Sure, fine. I better call it a night if I want to get anything done before midnight.” 

“It’s almost two in the morning.” 

“Hush up, or I’ll tattle to your sister that you didn’t log off when you said you would.” 

The breathy gasp was followed by a hasty log off, as though Dori would reappear just by mention. If that was the case poor Olivia would have been smothered under sisterly affection and concern a long while ago. 

“Calling it a night, gang. We making another assault on the mountain tomorrow?” 

A deep, warm voice came over her headphones and no, Wills did not squirm a bit at the sound, thank you very much. “We were thinking of making a run at the troll forest. We’re still too low to take on the dragon and I heard rumor that they planted some more weapons there.” 

“Okay, cool. Well, I’ll see you tomorrow then.” 

“Good night, Master Baggins.” 

Wills rolled her eyes. “You can just call me Wills, Master Oakenshield.” 

“And you can always call me Thorn.” 

“Yeah, maybe. In the meanwhile shouldn’t your nephews have been in bed about an hour ago?” She noted that their avatars weren’t moving at all, but she could hear the brotherly battle over her headphones and wondered how long until their step father stopped working on his armor and started enforcing their bed time. 

Thorn just chuckled. “I’ll stop over at their apartment and make sure to save them from themselves.” 

“Must be nice living a floor away from your family.” Wills muttered before gagging at her wistful tone. “Frick, I really need to get to bed. Night!” 

She logged off before Thorn could say anything, shutting off her computer so she wouldn’t be tempted to check her email or whatever new stalling tactic she could come up with. Not that she couldn’t stall sleep in other ways. Ways like wandering her apartment, digging through the mostly empty fridge, sniffing suspiciously at the tray of brownies that hadn’t been there hours before, and prodding at her fat tom cat who had fallen asleep on top of her laptop. Her mind just wouldn’t shut down after a successful night of gaming. Not that there was ever an unsuccessful night. 

A fumbling at the door snapped her from her thoughts, causing her heart to begin beating erratically. But it was only Gandalf, who smiled at her with no hint of shock that she’d still be up and about in the early morning hours. 

“Hello, dear Bilbo. Did the company fare well?” 

“We fought a goblin army. Are those your brownies on the counter?” 

Her roommate lifted a heavy brow at the counter before nodding slowly, as though he was not completely sure. “Ah yes. I couldn’t be online because I needed to bake. I’d forgotten.” 

“I worry about you sometimes, Gandalf.” 

“And I you, Bilbo.” 

She rolled her eyes. “I’m only Bilbo online. Now go to bed. Aren’t you teaching in the morning?” 

He just chuckled, gathering up her cat and carrying him off to his room, probably to practice his lecture on the poor animal until the sun rose. 

-

The Café was and always would be Wills favorite restaurant. Not just her favorite in town, but anywhere. Even the little tea shop in London where she’d first had chilled strawberry soup and where she’d first discovered her unstoppable passion for breakfast tea didn’t compare to the Café. But perhaps a large part of that was it was only a five minute bus ride away from her job, compared to the tea shop across the ocean. Unfortunately it was everyone else’s favorite because half of the campus had to be there, most of the crowded around the bakery, taking up space and making it nearly impossible for the small woman to find her way. 

Luckily Beau was stunningly tall and easy to spot with his twin braids and silly hat. He seemed to be having a staring contest with the daily specials menu, but broke his concentration when the librarians approached him. 

“Ah, my beautiful, learned ladies. How goes the day?” He swooped down to kissed Olivia, quite a bit bolder than he would have if he thought her sister was anywhere near, and even gave Wills a peck on the cheek. 

“Just trying to keep up with the pre-midterm rush. Today I found a freshman crying in the stairs and had to make the poor dear tea.” Olivia was by far the nicer librarian. Wills would have just set the lad down with a heavy book and reminded him to be quiet. 

Thanks to Beau they only had to wait about five minutes for their table. An order of bread and oil was put in for the appetizer and their ritual of agonizing over the menu only to decide on the same things they always got had begun. Wills even made it as far as to start ordering something new before giving in and ordering the macaroni and cheese. 

She was a creature of habit after all. 

“So, did you get to bed before the sun came up?” Beau asked, slopping up a good half of the oil with his chunk of bread. 

Olivia shrugged. “Sleep is for the weak. And for the weekend.” 

“Clever.” 

“So, Wills. Dearest beloved most best friend in the world.” Beau batted his eyelashes and she was instantly suspicious. “Lovely bit of game yesterday, don’t you think? I especially loved watching our glorious leader repeatedly get her ass handed to her in order to protect you.” 

Wills rolled her eyes as dramatically as possible for someone who was over the age of thirteen. “No she didn’t and shut up. Thorn was just being…helpful.” 

“Oh sure, yeah. Makes sense.” 

“What makes sense is you shutting up.” 

Olivia rolled her eyes at the back and forth, somehow making the dramatic gesture look tame and proper. “She does go out of her way to protect you. And she always gives you the nicest loot.” 

“She’s polite. Nothing else to it.” 

Beau nodded. “Of course, of course. And if she were to show up on campus tomorrow wanting a tour of the best closets on campus you’d turn her down for a chaste walk.” 

“Catching people having sex in the library closets is not a joking matter.” 

“All we’re saying is it’s totally alright if you have a crush on Thorn.”

“And all I’m saying is shut up.” 

They did, for a while, though when the conversation about school and work and strange roommates quiets it’s always back to the same teasing. She would tease them in return but the way they lightly touch hands and smile shyly keeps her tongue in check. And it doesn’t make her think about anyone in particular, especially not people who live in different states and who have a deep, warm voice. 

No, not at all. 

And that night if she went out of her way to take down three mountain trolls by herself, if only to protect the company at large and no one person in particular, that was her business. And if her face turned bright red at the gift of a small elvish blade from the company’s leader, well thank goodness only her computer was witness to it.

-

_’Just start the conversation with “I want to fuck you” and see where it goes from there.’_

Wills almost, just almost, threw her phone against the wall, stopping only when she remembered the between rent and her food bill she couldn’t afford a new one if the clunky thing actually broke. Instead she prepared an irritate text message for Beau. 

_’Did you give your cousin my number so she could ask about me fucking Thorn?’_

_’You’re fucking Thorn?! Awesome!’_

_’I’M NOT FUCKING THORN! Bridgette is telling me I should. Seriously, why is she texting me about my hypothetical sex life?’_

_’Probably cause she can’t just call you about it and you’re not near a webcam.’_

Wills gave into the temptation and slammed her forehead against the desk, knowing her friend was being especially obtuse, probably on purpose. She could barely talk with Bridgette about her nonexistent sex life through text without her face heating. Signing it over a webcam would be no better. 

_’I know Bridgette’s the only one blunt enough to say what you’re all talking about. Lay off it.’_

That night before they logged onto their game Wills and Bridgette had a very long conversation over Skype about boundaries, and about how Wills did not want to fuck Thorn, and how there would have been nothing wrong with it if she had, and about how Bridgette was welcome to text Wills whenever she wanted as long as it wasn’t about that. 

In the end she had to log off ten minutes into the campaign, unable to stand the squirming feeling that came with listening to Thorn give orders. 

A single text that read _’I told you so.’_ was waiting for her when she awoke the next morning.

-

“Let’s say, totally hypothetically, I like Thorn.” 

Olivia didn’t even glance up from the books she was organizing at the statement. In fact she didn’t even pretend to be shocked, just nodding along at the words. When she finally got her cart in order she smiled widely at Wills. “You do, but okay.” 

Wills took the cart and began putting things away, muttering so low Olivia had to lean closer to hear. “This is all hypothetical. I mean, I may not. It could just be her voice. It’s a lovely voice. You’ve heard it.”

“Oh, when she sang that song for the Lonely Mountain? That was lovely.” 

Wills didn’t blush when she mumbled something about how Thorn had written the song as well. Or at least she only blushed a little. “The point is, maybe it’s all superficial. And what if that is the case? It’s superficial, and she’s not even interested. Or what if she’s married? Or she’s taken a vow of chastity? I mean I know next to nothing about her.” 

“So talk to her.” 

Wills only realized later how brilliantly simple that was. 

-

She had waited until Gandalf returned from whatever adventure he had downtown before bothering to log in, knowing that the company would default to his leadership. For being online the least he always knew where the best loot was, and always seemed to lead them into something amazing. At first Thorn had resented it, at least that was how Wills perceived the hostile conversations she’d overheard, but anymore she just sat back and let him take the lead. 

As they wandered through Mirkwood Wills fell back beside Thorn, opening a private chat and hoping she could at least pretend to not be a silly school girl. Which she wasn’t. A school girl, that was. But she was a grad student, which technically meant she was close to a school girl, and Thorn did make her feel rather silly. 

Maybe a little silly.

“You alright?” 

Thorn grunted for a moment before sighing. “About the wizard taking over? I don’t mind as much. He’s surprisingly good.” 

“Considering he’s watching ‘Wife Swap’ while he plays, yeah it’s impressive.” She could hear the announcer’s voice from the other room and couldn’t help but wrinkle her nose at her roommate. She didn’t mind his choice in reality shows, just couldn’t understand why he only watched television when playing online. “I don’t think there’s much use for a burglar in a forest. I may just hang back.” 

Thorn laughed warmly. “Good. I could use some company.” 

“Your nephews aren’t enough company for you?” 

“Ugh, the little brats decided to avoid their homework by invading my living room earlier. That’s more than enough. Can I say I love Derek for finally dragging them home without it sounding weird?” 

Wills did a mental check of what she knew about Thorn’s family tree. “Saying you love your sister’s husband? Not weird at all.” 

“They’re not actually married. Dis seems pretty set on common law or nothing.” 

“More power to her. Hey, I’ve been wondering, is Dis short for something?” 

The warm chuckle that followed did not make her shiver. That was her open window. Nothing else. “It’s short for ‘Disaster.’” 

“And your name is properly Thorn? On your birth certificate and everything?”

“Mom was an anarchist and Dad never argued with her. What about you? Gandalf implied ‘Wills’ is a nickname.” 

She groaned a little but didn’t put up much of a fight. “It’s short for Wilhelmina. Wilhelmina Roberta. Kids back in school would call me Billy Bob sometimes.” 

“Is that where you get Bilbo?” 

“Yeah. It seemed clever when I signed up.” 

“No, I like it. It…it’s cute.” 

In front of them Gandalf lead the battle against a gathering of massive spiders, and while they would take out the occasional foe mostly they stayed to their chatting, ignoring anything else the game had to offer besides one another. It wasn’t until Gandalf wandered into her room with a bowl of ramen, seasoned with chili pepper flakes and containing a poached egg because he was that particular about his cheap noodles, that Wills even realized the rest of the company had split up for the night. 

That night she didn’t sign out until three in the morning.

-

Talking with a company member wasn’t weird. Talking with her almost every day in the game, not weird at all. And it wasn’t at all weird when they traded numbers and began texting. She communicated with quite a few of the company members that way, though only the ones living in the same state as her. And when they started chatting with their webcams it wasn’t weird. Not in the slightest. 

“Is it weird?” She asked, allowing herself to slump dramatically onto the table separating her from Olivia and Beau. 

Olivia, bless her kind and not at all smug heart, just shrugged. “Not really. We talk with Bridgette on webcams all the time.” 

“She’s teaching you both sign language, so it’s not really the same thing.” Beau added, not in the least bit helpfully. 

“You’re not helping at all.” 

Beau rolled his eyes, not cutely like when Olivia did it, not at all. “It’s great that you’re talking so much. That’s the first step in a relationship.” 

“We’re not in a relationship.” 

Beside her beer bottle her phone began vibrating and she tried, oh she tried, to not grin when she saw it was Thorn asking for a distraction from her nephews who she must have been conned into babysitting. 

“We may be in a relationship.” Wills whispered as she sent a reply. 

Olivia was polite enough to not look smug. Beau was not. 

-

_’Would it be weird if I flew to visit you?’_

Wills had been holding her phone for ten minutes, the text waiting to be sent. Her thumb kept bouncing between the send button and the clear button, not sure which she’d prefer to press. In the end she just pushed her phone at Gandalf when he walked in the door, hiding in her room under he returned it half an hour later. 

“It’ll be quite the adventure.” He said before gathering up her cat and shuffling off to his own room. 

She had one new message. 

_’I was going to ask the same thing.’_

-

The airport was crowded, and much bigger than the one she’d left behind her. Wills had never been fond of flying, though she also had little experience with it. The last time she’d been on a plane she’d been six, on her way to see her grandfather on her mother’s side. The whole trip she had buried her face in her mother’s shirt, sniffling and refusing to look out the window no matter how amazing her father said the view was. 

This time she’d looked. She had watched as roads became thin as a spider’s web, the grass turning into an endless block of green, occasionally broken by farmers’ fields and the occasional pond or lake. She watched as the grass turned to plains, to mountains, to forest. And when they touched down her heart had pounded so loudly she thought every other passenger could hear it. 

The pounding continued as she followed the signs, and in her pocket her phone felt like a lead weight. She knew she said she would text when she arrived but her fingers wouldn’t stop shaking and she wasn’t sure she could type anything close to words. 

But she didn’t need a message confirming that Thorn was waiting. She could see it for herself. 

And oh, wasn’t she beautiful?

Wills had never been particularly self conscious but suddenly all she could think of was her mess of curly hair, the bags under her eyes from staying up late at night, and how ridiculously short she was. But Thorn was so different. The camera was a horrible liar because she was magnificent, with her thick black hair trailing down her back and her piercing blue eyes. A giggle startled from her when she noticed Thorn wore a heavy jacket with fur lining around the collar, much like her avatar. 

It was the giggle that caught Thorn’s attention. For one agonizingly long second she seemed shocked and then her lips curled into a smile. 

In that moment Wills wanted nothing more than to kiss that smile. 

And so she did. 

She didn’t realize she had run to Thorn under she felt her feet lifting off the ground, didn’t realize she’d grabbed onto Thorn under she felt the fur under her hands, and didn’t realize she’d kissed Thorn until she felt the gasp under her lips. And Thorn kissed back, one hand holding the back of her neck while the other kept her secured. 

Behind them came the catcalling that was so familiar and so much louder when she couldn’t turn down her headphones. There was the rough growl that usually threatened monsters, now ordering about two teenagers. And there was the very worrisome sound of a camera clicking. 

But Wills didn’t care. 

“Hello, my King.” She whispered when she finally pulled away. 

“Hello, my burglar.” She whispered back. 

Ah, an excellent adventure indeed.


	7. Can't Take the Sky from Me (fem!Thorin/fem!Bilbo)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Originally this chapter was going feature Gloin, but then I started a "Firefly" marathon and here we are. I'm not even going to pretend this chapter isn't a giant love letter to "Firefly" and fem!Thorin. Also, thank you to everyone leaving kudos and comments. I'm a total sucker for attention. (Speaking of, I'm often being silly over at http://contraryizybel.tumblr.com/ if anyone wants to drop by and say hello or leave a prompt or whatever) (hint hint)

Chapter Seven  
Can't Take the Sky From Me

featuring fem!Thorin/fem!Bilbo

-

Boots sounded against metal, pounding and echoing through the empty halls of the abandoned ship. Somewhere in the belly of the ship came a sound like bells ringing. The sound grew, fighting against the deafening noise of the invaders until finally one of the soldiers paused to wonder just what he was hearing. 

“It’s coming from below.” 

And so they marched, a little softer, down and down to the engines of the ship. No life had been seen or sensed but when they opened the hatch to the engine they realized how wrong they’d been. 

Green. The whole of the engine room was covered in plants, even grass which grew up through the grates of the floor. Ferns hung from the pipes, vines growing where they pleased and the air was heavy with moisture. One of the more observant soldiers noticed the ringing had been coming from the engine itself. 

It was the last thing he noticed before he was shot down. 

The battle only lasted a minute, hardly long enough to be more than an ambush. As the smallest soldier, the last survivor, reached to make contact with their own ship a bare foot settled heavily on his throat, causing him to gasp and wriggle helplessly. The foot’s owner didn’t care, not if the gun pointed at his face was any indication. 

“Bloody busy bodies.” 

And that was the last the boy knew. 

-

For the first time in years her home wasn’t being invaded. Instead someone was knocking on the door. 

She rather appreciated the gesture as she hadn’t quite finished cleaning the blood away from the last assault and honestly didn’t want more work. Sometimes being a hermit was tiring business. And though her instinct was to shoot first and then shoot again for good measure she allowed herself the illusion of civility. It would a refreshing change of pace. 

The worn video screen whirled to life with a bit of protest, allowing her the view of a very old man with a very long beard. He seemed more interested in the scenery than in the door he’d just been knocking on. In fact it took two clearings of her throat before he realized she’d even responded. 

“Bilbo Baggins.” The man said, tipping his grey hat. “I’m looking for someone to share in an adventure.” 

“Piss off.” 

The man just smiled as though she’d said good morning. “I see you haven’t misplaced your stunning manners. Though you seem to have misplaced your ship. Do you realize it’s sitting in a veritable ship graveyard?” 

“Well, they weren’t here when I landed so I can’t be blamed for the failings of the neighborhood. And why do you talk like you know me?” 

“Because I know you, just as you know me. Or at least you know my name. I am Gandalf!” 

“Gandalf?” And like a fool she allowed herself to perk up. “Mother’s Gandalf? Oh, I didn’t realize you were still in business.” 

The video crackled a little but she could make out his irritated expression. “And where should I be?” 

“Dead. I imagine.” 

“Ah well.” He glanced back towards the abandoned ships, muttering something under his breath. “Might I come in for some tea then?” 

And never in the rest of her life would she be able to figure out why she said yes. 

-

Tea had been refreshing. The awkward chat had been the longest conversation she’d had in almost seven years and it was equal parts exhilarating and exhausting. They had spoke of the expansion of Rivendell, the port city where most of Bilbo’s work had come from before she’d taken off on her last adventure. They spoke of her home planet and how the Shire was still excellent at staying out of the rest of the universe’s business. They even spoke, briefly, of Bilbo’s mother and her last days. It had ended with Gandalf tipping his hat and leaving as though nothing out of the ordinary had happened at all. 

And then she was alone again. 

For a while she settled with tending to her garden, feeding the soil and clipping away out of place leaves before realizing they were all out of place. She had another cup of tea from a broken china cup that had once belonged to her great grandmother. She even did a few pulls ups in the door frame before decided that was quite enough of that, thank you very much. 

As she settled down with some grilled fish, caught from the pond had built into the back half of the galley, a strange sound echoed through the halls. One she’d half forgotten. At least before she had heard it that afternoon. 

Someone was knocking at her door. 

Again.

Pulling a robe around her, mostly to hide her holster, she rushed up the stairs. She had even broken into a smile, though it was completely unintentional. Was Gandalf back already? Maybe he wanted to stay for dinner. It’d be easily enough to cook up another fish. Oh, she could even get into her garden and pull up some potatoes. 

But when she opened the door it wasn’t Gandalf standing there with his cheerful smile and silly hat. It was another man altogether, who didn’t seem at all bothered by the gun being aimed at his face. 

“Dwalin.” He grunted. 

“Ex-excuse me?” 

“Dwalin, at your service.” 

And the strange tattooed man proceeded to bow before barreling into her ship and heading straight for her dining hall with no direction or permission. She followed with her gun still drawn but the man didn’t seem to be a threat to her. Just her dinner, which he took to with great enthusiasm. 

“What are you doing in my ship? How did you find me?” 

The burly man just shrugged as he bit off the head of her grilled fish, officially marking the night was unpleasant. She’d really been looking forward that dinner. Before she could grump about it a knocking sounded again. 

“That’ll be the door.” 

“Oh bother.” 

-

It was the door. And it was the door again. And again. And somewhere in the span of twenty minutes her ship was being overrun by strangers, all of which were wearing beards of some fashion and a hodgepodge of fashion, from dirty solider uniforms with tacky jackets to shiny leather and mail armor. And almost all of them had braids in their hair. 

Her ship was being taken over by Dwarrows. 

Piss. 

She’d heard the legends, back before her self-imposed exile. Back when the sky was untamed and space was a mystery the Dwarrows took off together, a giant pack of wanderers from the Blue Mountains of a world lost to time. They were a hearty race, clever with their metal work but often looked down upon by the Elves of the First Worlds and the Men of the Outer rim. But for Hobbits like Bilbo they were something brave, and daring, and even scary. 

And now twelve of them were in her ship. 

As she pouted by the stairs to her garden she wondered if she’d survive a shoot out. It was said all Dwarrows were skilled in fire fights, and fist fights as well. Even in her prime she’d always been sneaky, and against twelve in a tiny ship there wasn’t much hope. Maybe, just maybe she could throw everything of value into a pack and make for one of the abandoned ships. They were lacking in food but she hadn’t touched their fuel. Well, not all of it. Just sneak out the back and she could be off the rock before they finished eating her canned fruit. 

Before she could put her plan into action there came a horrible sound. One she learned to fear. 

Someone was knocking on her door. 

Gandalf was polite enough to open the door, and though it would be the perfect chance to flee Bilbo couldn’t help but peek out and see who had arrived. The newcomer wore a cloak, heavy and lined with fur, and had long black hair with a touch of silver nearer the scalp. And even with the fine beard she knew this stranger was a woman. 

A very handsome woman who was glaring right at her. 

“Gandalf. I assume this is your burglar.” 

Bilbo bristled at the comment, gathering herself to her full height which was barely above the other woman’s chin. “I beg your pardon! I am no one’s burglar but my own. And furthermore, I am retired.” 

The woman lifted a brow at Bilbo before shrugging. “And I am here to extend an invitation that you may consider leaving your retirement. I am Captain Thorin Oakenshield, and I have need of a burglar.” 

The Captain bowed, almost smugly if such a thing was possible, and Bilbo became very aware the crowd gathering at her back. “And what is it you need of a burglar?” 

“A beast stole my ship, and you are going to help me get it back.” 

-

For the first week she wouldn’t let any of them near the controls except Thorin and Balin. Thorin because she had insisted. Balin because he actually knew where they were going. The rest were left to care for her precious Bag End, which they took to with remarkable ease. Even Ori, who she decided right away was the youngest if only from how his brothers treated him, had taken to caring for the garden, making sure none of the plants caught in the gears, and that they were all well watered. 

Throin had made a fuss about the amount of water spent on the plants, but Bilbo could be just as stubborn as any Dwarrow and didn’t let Thorin finish a sentence until she understood that the water was recycled and the plants were saving them on fuel by providing oxygen and energy. The argument lead to a two hour long talk about the difference between Shire ships and Dwarrow ships, most of which came down to the amount of stone used in the construction, as well as two other arguments which were completely unrelated to the original subject. It wasn’t until the conversation finished that she realized Balin had been piloting the whole time and afterwards she reluctantly allowed him to take control when she was desperate for a nap. 

Eventually he wasn’t alone in piloting, as Dori and Bofur and Bifur all had experience and made for a good team so no one were ever pushed to exhaustion. By the end of the third week Bilbo only flew when she found herself missing the controls under her fingers and the thrum of her ship purring under her bare toes. 

Aside from Kili and Fili, who were possibly the next youngest just from their ridiculous behavior, everyone helped around the ship. Nori turned out to be an old hand with engines, and Gloin and Oin worked together seamlessly to get her medical ward up to standards. Bombour had taken to cooking for her, somehow stretching her supplies to feed fifteen mouths and well. 

It was almost like having a proper crew again.

Sometimes she’d sit in the galley, usually on the counters like she had as a child, listening to the banter between brothers and cousins and friends, laughing at the ridiculous card games that she was convinced they were making up as they went along. She’d sometimes even get pulled into their stories, tales of life as drifters across space. Tales of family, most of those coming from Gloin who couldn’t be made to shut up once he got his mind set on talking. Tales of lovers, most from Nori who’d only be silenced by a kick in the shin from Dori. Tales of adventure, mostly from Fili and Kili who kept interrupting one another and changing little details and even big details until Dwalin bellowed for them to shut up and let one of the adults tell the damn story. 

And tucked into the same corner where she use to watch her family and crew Bilbo found herself laughing again. 

-

It took a month to find a lead on the ship, Thorin’s precious Erebor. All the while Thorin would sulk around the ship, eyeing everything with a scowl and a growl. Luckily Bilbo had long ago forgotten how to be properly afraid of people and she would quickly bully the captain into helping her with maintaining the ship, or plotting over maps and rumors, or getting Fili and Kili away from the airlock. Sometimes she even just sat with Thorin, the pair watching the crew scuttle about in silence. 

“It’s a fine ship you have.” Thorin said one day when the silence had gone on too long. 

“Oh, thank you. It was my mother’s. Belladonna. You would have liked her, everyone did. Dad made it for her.” She unconsciously ran a hand over the metal beside her, fingers catching on the grooves and dents and scratches. 

“Was she a burglar as well?” 

Bilbo laughed. It was warm and open and when she’d first made the noise months ago she’d jumped from fear of hearing the sound. “Aye. My father was from a noble family and one day she stole him away and held him for ransom. Got the money and stole him again, only this time she just wanted the family ring. She proposed with the second random, and he didn’t want his freedom after that.” 

Thorin chuckled at the story, scooting a little closer so there was room in the stairwell for Ori to bustle by. When the lad was gone she stayed pressed against Bilbo. “That’s downright romantic.” 

“Dad used to money to build Bag End and they took off from Bree. Settled in the Shire where I was born and sometimes made runs to the outer rims to smuggle or steal. Guess I came by my career honestly.” 

The captain shrugged. “My people have been wandered since we left our planet. Nothing more honest than that.” 

“You don’t strike me as a wanderer.” 

“Oh? What do I strike you as then?” 

Bilbo’s lips twisted into a grin. “A horrible house guest, with a horrible sense of direction.” 

“Aye, but don’t let the lads hear it. They may get ideas.” 

“Ideas about what?” 

“Sneaking off. I’ll never be able to track them down.” 

Bilbo couldn’t hold back the laughter that bubbled from her, and she didn’t hold back from leaning against Thorin who rested a hand on the back of her head, fingers weaving into her curly hair. 

-

Four months into their quest they settled in Rivendell for some trade, restocking and fun. As soon as the gates opened Fili and Kili were off running, dragging poor Ori behind them while Dori panicked and Dwalin grumbled about playing babysitter. The rest of the crew took off at a more leisurely pace, leaving behind Bofur and Gloin who had drawn the short straws and were left watching the ship. 

It was the first Bilbo had seen of the city in years and she wasn’t at all disappointed with the sight. The buildings still towered and gleamed under the twin suns, while the elven race towered above her and her companions. She tried not to fidget under their lofty expressions while Thorin forewent any common courtesy and went right for glaring at any who walked too close. 

“Mighty jumpy, aren’t you?” Bilbo teased, though she didn’t move away when Thorin pressed right up against her side. “They too tall for you as well?” 

“Dwarrows don’t like anyone who can look clear over your head.” 

“So that’s why you like to keep Dwalin so drunk he walks sideways?” 

Thorin snorted, a light airy sound. “Something like that.” 

A little further from the dock there were was a market, one she had played in as a little girl, running between the stalls while her mother did dealings in backrooms and her father kept eye on the ship. She pointed out a few places with particular memory. Where she lifted her first stolen good, a candied fruit from a grocer who was half blind and more than half mad. Where she’d gotten her first kiss from a lad who lived in the slums and where she got into her first fist fight with that same lad after he called her a name. 

Sometimes a dwarrow would bow to them, offering guttural words for Thorin, none of which Bilbo could understand. A few even slipped things to Thorin, little trinkets and money. Most kept a degree of distance, though some could clap her shoulder or knock their forehead against hers. But all showed her respect.

“You aren’t just a captain.” Bilbo said when they stopped at a bar for a drink, which Thorin insisted on paying for. 

“Certainly there’s more to everyone than just their job.” 

Bilbo narrowed her eyes. “You know what I mean.” 

Thorin rubbed the back of her neck, chuckling awkwardly as she did. “I may, just possibly, be considered a royal by some of my kind.” 

“A royal who travels with vagabonds on a ship that’s only one step less than commandeered.” 

“Something like that.” 

The hobbit just punched Thorin, lightly though it was, on the shoulder to keep her from looking so downtrodden. “I don’t care about any of that, though it makes you worst of a house guest.” 

“I know.” Thorin said. “You don’t cower for anyone, do you? That’s what I like about you. Well, part of what I like about you.” 

“Oh? And what else do you like?” 

Instead of answering Thorin pressed their lips together, slow and soft and with just enough time for Bilbo to pull away if she wanted. Instead Bilbo pushed forward, grabbing onto one of the braids framing Thorin’s face and keeping her still. It set off a possessive growl from the captain and if they hadn’t been in the middle of a bar Bilbo would have worried about her virtue. Or at least of making a spectacle. 

As it was she was still a little concerned. The look in Thorin’s eyes spoke of promise and it made something sweet and sharp curl in Bilbo’s belly. 

It was only later, curled up in her garden away from the spying eyes of the crew and with her fingers curling through Thorin’s thick hair, that Bilbo realized the kiss had been an answer to her question. 

She’d have to find time to show Thorin all the things she liked about her. 

-

They don’t make for land for another month, so it was little wondered that Thorin managed to kick everyone off the ship, Gandalf included, before the engines even cooled. Bilbo would have been impressed if she hadn’t been so busy making the situation worse by sending coy smiles at the captain while making not at all subtle comments about how hard it was to maintain a relationship when surrounded by so many people. 

In the end she’d been impressed when Thorin didn’t physically throw her nephews onto the dock. 

And Bilbo had tried feeling sorry for Thorin. She’d been so well behaved when they were around the crew. Just light touches, soft fingers against the back of her hand when they walked side by side, or a whisper in her ear when they could have just spoke as normal. But as well behaved as she had been it only took days for the crew to notice something was different, and only hours after that for the gossip to spread until even poor deaf Oin had heard about it. 

After that there was no privacy, even less than originally existed in a small ship with fifteen passengers. If Thorin came within five steps of her Kili or Fili would appear, dragging their aunt away to check on some nonsense while the other winked at Bilbo, mocking her irritation. Dwalin had taken to Bilbo very kindly after the news spread, dropping beside her at meals and regaling her with any story of his shared childhood with Thorin which could cause embarrassment, even if the embarrassment was directed at himself. 

With all the attention it was a wonder Thorin hadn’t just thrown Bilbo out the airlock and called it a day. Or perhaps it was a wonder Bilbo hadn’t done that to Thorin. Somehow they managed to endure, stealing fleeting moments in the back of Bilbo’s garden and one memorable snogging session when Thorin was meant to be flying the ship. 

But now the crew had orders to stay away from Bag End for at least thirty hours, unless they were being shot at. And if they weren’t they would be. 

Unfortunately that left Bilbo at Thorin’s mercies. 

Which was how she found herself running down the halls, laughter spilling from her in breathless waves as she regretted the teasing that had taken place each moment after they learned they would be landing for a spell. Thorin’s boots thundered against the stairs, echoing so Bilbo knew exactly where she was. Her bare feet were silent, but her laughter gave her away and try as she might she couldn’t stop. 

She twisted past her room, though she paused long enough to throw the door open hoping it would cause a distraction. It must have worked because she was halfway down the next hall when she heard a startled sound and curses she still couldn’t translate but could guess towards. 

She had made it to the last step separating her from her garden when strong arms wrapped around her middle and lifted her straight off the ground. For a moment she struggled, no long caught in the game but trapped in something much worse and more serious, but firm lips touched her chin and banished such thoughts. The pounding of her heart, from running and unwanted memories, calmed only slightly when she twisted for a kiss. 

“You are a horrible tease.” Thorin laughed, and though she had her prize she didn’t turn from Bilbo’s goal, instead making her way further into the engine room. She had abandoned her boots to keep silent in her chasing and was grateful for it as the grass brushed against her feet. And in her arms Bilbo was still twisting, though not as determined to escape as she’d been minutes before. 

“A chase is not a tease. I was concerned for my well-being.” 

Thorin huffed, blowing her black hair out of her eyes. “I wasn’t really going to spank you for that flirting. Though I should. A captain deserves respect, especially in front of her crew.” 

“Those were your nephews. They respect you plenty and it has nothing to do with you being their captain.” 

“Suppose you’re right.” She said as she dropped Bilbo gently onto the small pile of pillows she slept on when she had exhausted herself looking after the engines. Some nights she would sleep down there just for comfort, letting the engines lull her to sleep. Anymore Thorin had been joining her, and she’d never admit it but the captain and the engines made very similar sounds. 

Though she was careful of her size compared to her burglar Thorin didn’t hesitate to pin the smaller woman, catching her lips in a frantic kiss. She had dreamed of when they would finally have a moment together, thought of slow, languished kisses and reassuring touching but Bilbo realized she didn’t have the patience for that. Not when Thorin was so warm above her. Not when she’d been teased as much as she was accused of teasing. 

In a moment she was groaning and gasping and practically begging. If Thorin pulled away from her lips she would begin pleading, just one more kiss, just one, oh please, before taking what she wanted from the amused dwarrow. 

A strong hand pushed up her skirt, trailing along the side of her leg as Thorin distracted her with nibbles and a surprisingly delicious sucking at her bottom lip. The hand under her skirt slipped up, up, and too far up, and it began stroking her belly. 

“You missed.” Bilbo groaned, tugging at Thorin’s beard in reprimand. 

Thorin shrugged, allowing Bilbo to lead her face to the crook of her neck where she began nibbling. “I really didn’t.” 

As she spoke her hand trailed around the flesh of Bilbo’s belly, to her side and finally the small of her back. The feather light touch made Bilbo arch up, allowing Thorin to catch the button at the back of her skirt. A deft twist of her fingers and the skirt was easily pulled away. 

“Ah, well. Lovely work, Captain.” Bilbo commended while tugging at the cloth that kept her away from Thorin. “Perhaps you could repeat that trick on your own clothes.” 

“When I’m done.” Thorin muttered, and it took a moment for Bilbo to understand what she was trying to accomplish with her hands. She had somehow gotten her undershirt almost off her, but hadn’t touched a button on her waistcoat. 

It was difficult work, and more than once Bilbo’s hand where shooed away from trying to help unbutton the coat, but soon Bilbo was completely nude, save her lovely waistcoat. The cut of the fabric served to cover her breasts, but not enough as any moment could have her spilling out. Which, if Thorin’s smirk was anything to go by, may have been the plan. 

“You’ve got some fetish for my clothes.” She accused, still attempting to remove Thorin’s own, but with little success. 

“Just one piece in particular. I’ve been wanting to see you wear just this for a while now.” She must have been happy with what she saw as she lowered her head, kissing the space between the breast and earning a giggle from the hobbit as her bread brushed against the revealed skin. While her lips worked at Bilbo’s skin her fingers trailed through the curls between her legs, and if Bilbo had a better state of mind she’d have accused Thorin of petting her. As it was she was quite distracted and was lucky she could reply at all, even if those replies were heated moans and cries for more.

Somewhere between Thorin finally, finally touching her properly and her managing to work a red mark into Thorin’s neck with her teeth, Bilbo had succeeded in removing the tunic Thorin had been wearing, tossing it aside so she could kiss her way across the expanse of skin. For each lightning bolt that seemed the burst through her body she repaid Thorin by with kisses and nibbles and bites. At some point Thorin made her scream, white flashing behind her closed eyes and her whole body clenching while her nails dug into Thorin’s back. 

She didn’t seem to mind in the slightest. 

Instead she began thrusting her hips, pressing against Bilbo and holding her so close the hobbit could hear her heartbeat. It was all she could do to push back, lips seeking Thorin’s again as she greedily swallowed up any sounds Thorin made. 

And then she shuttered, her whole body tensing and her breath seeming to stop before she practically fell onto her lover. Bilbo hardly cared. Thorin would make a lovely blanket, if only for a little while. 

“My burglar.” She whispered in Bilbo’s ear, earning a shiver from the smaller woman. “Perhaps we can lock them out for thirty five hours.” 

Bilbo just snorted while her fingers tangled in Thorin’s hair and half heartedly attempted a braid. “Only thirty five hours? You would be bored of me so quickly?” 

“Never.” She said so solemnly it sounded like a vow. 

-

In the end they didn’t open the doors to Bag End for forty eight hours and when they did it was to admit twelve out of breath dwarrows, many of whom were sporting new bruises and money that most certainly hadn’t been earned fairly, as well as an amused old man with a new silly hat. 

The peace officers chased them for hours but Bag End was quick and Bilbo was quicker when protecting what was hers. And after they escaped she made sure the crew knew that while Thorin was their captain, they were Bilbo’s crew. 

And no one seemed to have a problem with that.


	8. Of Dragons and Princesses (fem!Kili)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Someday Gloin. Someday you'll get your chapter. I love the idea of wee little Kili and wee little Ori. They may get their own series, but for now they just get to play with Smaug, who is expanding on my own dragon ideas about why a dragon would even care about princesses and damsels and the like.

Chapter Eight  
Of Dragons and Princesses

Featuring fem!Kili and Smaug (with guest appearances by Dis and Ori)

-

Deep in the mountain kingdom of Erebor a dragon slept. The once great beast who plagued the lands and devoured any who approached his den had rolled onto his belly at some point in his slumber and had started kicking his leg, not unlike a hunting dog would while dreaming of the chase. 

So caught up in his dreams of open skies and endless oceans he didn’t hear the creaking of a door, nor the pitter patter of tiny feet creeping ever closer. And in the moment between sleeping and waking he found himself the victim of a great assault. 

“HEEEEGHAAAA!” 

The tiny form of a dwarf princess launched herself into the air, flying down into the pit that held the wealth of the kingdom of Erebor, and landing solidly on the soft underbelly of the dragon employed to guard such a treasure. Tiny fists slammed into the scales, doing more damage to her own knuckles, and added a few tickling stomps for good measure. And with a mighty cry she sat down, smiling widely at the beast who watched her every move. 

“Hi, Smaug. I’m bored.” 

“I couldn’t tell, princess.” 

The young princess Kili rubbed at her nose, trying to look cool like her older brother. All it did was make the dragon think she was getting a cold. “Everyone’s so boring around here. Mum wants me to get fitted for a dress, for that stupid party they’re having.” 

“And why aren’t you getting fitted.” 

“Cause I snuck out.” She said as though it was the most obvious answer.

Smaug gently lifted the child from his belly, allowing him to roll over without crushing the little thing. It would not help his career in the mountain if he were to break the princess. “And has your mother gotten a new dress for this party?” 

Kili rolled her eyes, though she didn’t fidget when he made a little nest for her out of the pile of coin directly before him. “It’s actually pretty, hers is, and don’t worry cause she already said she’d come show you before anything happens. You know she wouldn’t forget you.” 

Smaug huffed. “She has other responsibilities now. To her kingdom, and husband, and children.” 

“So you’re stuck with me, huh?” 

“Unless you convince your brother he’d make a better princess.” 

She looked thoughtful at that. “He’s already got a pretty mustache. Mum says soon he’ll be able to braid it. A couple flowers in his braids and you’d think he was a princess.” 

“A princess is more than pretty flowers and dresses.” Smaug recited. “What is she, young one?” 

Kili took a deep breath, finishing the lines she had been hearing since she was old enough to toddle through the treasury. “A princess is brave in the face of the unknown, and kind to those who need kindness, and fierce against those who deserve it. A princess is the backbone of a kingdom, the love of her people and the hope for the future.” 

Smaug nodded, pleased with the recital even if there was no passion in the delivery. 

“Is that why dragons kidnap princesses?” Kili asked, half distracted with one of his great claws that lay close enough so could touch it. Which she did, without fear or even a hint of worry. 

“They are the rarest members of the mortal races, and the most highly treasured. To have a hoard and a princess makes a dragon very powerful indeed.” 

“Huh. Dragon’s are weird.” With that decree she hopped up, sliding down the small hill of coin and landing gracelessly on the floor. “And I’m still bored. Wanna play? We could play damsel in distress!” 

He thought back to the last time she’d convinced him to play with her. It had been the first time he’d left the mountain in almost three decades, chasing desperately after the scent of a toddler who thought her dragon would enjoy a game of hide and seek. But the guards were smarter at keeping the princess in the mountain, and she was old enough to come up with less dangerous games. Or perhaps more dangerous ones. Still, he gave the game his blessing and watched with amusement as she went racing out of the treasury, promising she’d be back in but a moment. 

His newest princess was so different from the last, strange considering one was daughter to the other. When he had first arrived at Erebor, hoping for a fantastic hoard and little else, he’d been surprised by the fierce bravery of the dwarven people, and more surprised by the princess who fought him with both sword and axe, almost knocking off one of his scales before he even made it to the gates of the kingdom. And when she threatened to make a sword from his tooth he realized he’d found a much better prize that any silly pile of gold. 

How fortunate that her father was smart enough to see that an alliance with a dragon was worth negotiating with his daughter to consider the beast’s proposal. And far more fortunate that her only condition was that he guard the people of Erebor as part of his hoard, and that he never eat anyone who lived in the mountain. And if that exchange allowed him to living among Erebor’s treasure, well that just meant he was all the more lucky. 

His first princess had been fierce, wanting to battle with him more than sit in his company. Her promise meant having to visit him at least once a day, with one day free should she like it. By the end of that first month she did not take a single day away from him, learning from his endless stories and battling against his scales, that she might improve her technique. 

He had loved that princess. 

And when she died in glorious battle, a battle which he joined after hearing of her fall, he was granted a new princess. This one, the teenaged niece of his last princess, was less willing to visit with a dragon, though she sat through each meeting prim and proper until her tutors called for her. It was only when he shared her sorrow in losing her aunt that she began speaking with him, learning from him and teaching in turn. 

His little Dis was quite the princess. 

She was far kinder, mostly to the people of the mountain and rarely to those outside it. Some days she would storm into his treasury, plopping herself down against his belly to rant about the elves of the forest who dared to look down on her people. Other times she would hold back tears, begging him for advice to help her people when they starved from harsh winter. And some strange special nights she would slip from her bed to sit up with him, sharing her secret fears and dreams. 

But eventually she too had to leave him, this time for a husband. 

He did not attend the wedding, couldn’t have fit in the room if he wanted to, but she showed him her dress and her rings and the beads her husband crafted for her hair. She told him everything about the dwarf she planned to spend her life with and kissed him on the nose when she went to say her vows. 

For the next few years he slept, as dragons often do, lost in dreams of frozen wastelands and oceans that had no end. And when he finally opened his eyes it was to his princess, smiling brightly with a small lad holding her hand and a bundle shifting in her arms. 

“Her name is Kili. She will be your princess some day.” 

And she was quite the princess. 

“Smaug, I found a damsel for you!” 

Slipping from his thoughts he looked down at the child and her poor playmate, who shivered under the stare of the kingdom’s dragon and looked too small for the fancy dress he’d been forced into. Still he met Smaug’s stare, staring back with open curiosity and wonder. 

“Is that the thief’s brother?” Smaug asked, catching the scent of tea leaves and smoke that followed the most ambitious of Erebor’s thieves. 

“Nori doesn’t steal! He just…likes looking is all.” 

“This is Ori and he’s gonna be our damsel. So you need to steal him and I’ll save him and vanquish you and we’ll all live happily ever after.” Kili hoisted up a heavy wooden sword, smiling at Ori in such a noble manner one could almost ignore the missing front tooth. 

With a sigh Smaug gathered up his new victim, settling him on his stomach so they could talk while Kili attacked his side. “Is that the dress she’s meant to wear at the party?” 

Ori nodded sadly, tugging at his braids. “She says I’m too small for it, but I can’t be a damsel without a dress. It’s a nice color though.” 

“Oh yes.” Smaug agreed solemnly. 

And down below them, up to her ankles in gold and striking a pose so they would know she was serious, Kili began bellowing at Ori about how he needed to scream to make it more realistic. In the end Ori didn’t scream, but he was saved when Kili managed to climb up the dragon’s tail. For her heroics, and for ripping the dress, she was grounded from swords for a month. But she also got a kiss on the cheek from Ori, and as close to a kiss as a dragon could manage from Smaug, and that was all a heroic princess needed at the end of a day.


End file.
